Breaking the silence and talking about grief helps to come to terms with what has happened. This is not to be confused with healing or ‘getting over it‘, rather it enables the afflicted to develop coping mechanisms. After stillbirth there are few, certainly in my circles, who want to talk about it. The death of a child is something that happens to someone else. Family and friends believe that talking about it is tantamount to an admission that children die; an admission that their children could also die. Silence prevails in grief.
I started writing on my website, Fathers Grief, to rebel against the wall of silence that stood in front of me when Ethan’s name was spoken. It didn’t force people I used to care for to listen, but I was amazed at the support and sympathy from strangers; strangers united with a common bond. It quickly became apparent that stories of grief undoubtedly helped readers as much as me, the writer. Unfortunately, there comes a time that writing about grief no longer helps the bereaved. Sometimes you need to seek refuge in silent grief and just be another face in the crowd.
Recently, I realized that I have never properly grieved in silence. Through Fathers Grief and, more recently, Still Standing, I’ve been grieving in public for the past 2 years. I have never been fully alone with my thoughts; every emotion associated with grief, even the good, have been captured in writing for the public to either find some empathy, some inspiration or simply to enjoy as a soap opera. Anytime grief attacked me, I ran and told someone; I wrote about it. Perhaps people have gained an insight into how dark an individual’s thoughts can be while working through grief.
Just last month, on the second anniversary of Ethan’s funeral, I realized I am done with wallowing in grief. Of course, I expect times ahead when my eternal grief will be difficult, but it will never be able to do any new damage. Grief can reopen old wounds if it must; it is all that remains for it to do.
Currently, I am wondering what it is like to stand and engage, rather than run away; what would it be like to invite the enemy into my home and hear what he has to say? Should we really believe that Death uses grief as a mechanism of torturing bereaved parents? No, grief must have a purpose. I hope that by contemplating grief in silence, its true purpose will be revealed.
Ethan is dead – anyone who knows me knows that; there is nothing more to be said. I refuse to spend my life after my child died trying to please people who no longer matter. I refuse to live a tepid life until it concludes with regretful ‘what-ifs?’, before I lie in silent turmoil with the grass growing over me and those who should love me carry on with their lives.
With grief comes a tremendous energy which forces change in a person. There is much said of the destructive directions that grief provides; but grief’s energy, if harvested correctly, can be incredibly constructive. It can encourage new ventures and erase procrastination. For me, the time is right to attempt to harvest this tremendous energy of grief.
{Your Thoughts}